


it's  what humans call love

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 21:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11449188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	it's  what humans call love

"Clara! Clara! Wake up, please! Wake up, Clara! Wake up C͏l҉a͉̹͙̗̳͘r͎a ̺͟m̨͓͇̰̺y̼͡ C̢͙̥ḻ̲̳̭͙̝̫a̹̭—̺͇̺̜̣͝.̣̗̯̩́.̟̲̰̯̀.....

Behind them, the TARDIS's time rotor resumed its never-ceasing noise, but it was different than usual. Worryingly so. 

The groaning had turned into a moaning, he told Clara. 

"That's ridiculous!" she said, with a light laugh. "They're the same thing, groaning and moaning."

"No, they're not," he said, and turned away from her, face cast in shadow. "Something's off. Something's wrong. I can't put my finger on it."

"I'm sure it's fine," replied Clara in a comforting voice he'd heard her use with students before. The Doctor gave her a wary look. Ever the optimist, was his Clara, always looking on the bright side. But he worried such a lighthearted approach would one day get her in trouble. She turned to peer out the doors of the TARDIS.

"Ooh! This looks nice," she told him, taking his hand. "Come on, Doctor. It's beautiful out!" He blinked in the brightness and realized she was right. There were plants reaching up to the sky, and sun glistening on the leaves. The air was humid but not uncomfortably so, and there were beautiful red and yellow flowers covering the ground. The Doctor felt as if he was seeing everything with too much colour, too much light and not enough feeling. 

"It's like Jack and the Bean Stalk," said Clara. 

"What?" asked The Doctor incredulously. 

"Jack and the Bean Stalk, you know? It's a fairy story. There's a boy named Jack who plants some magic beans and they grow bean stalks up to the clouds, where there are giants."

"Well, that's ridiculous," said the Doctor.

Clara laughed. "That's rich, coming from you." She gave him a teasing smile. 

He grinned back, suddenly becoming uncomfortably aware of how close they were standing. He cleared his thorat and took a step back. "We should get going, Clara. The distress call? Remember?"

Clara blinked. "Oh, yeah of course! Which way was it?"

"North," said the Doctor firmly, and Clara turned to go. "That's east," he reminded her, and spun her around so she was facing the right direction. He laughed and took her hand in his.

"Ah, right," she said sheepishly as they began walking. "You know, not everyone's mind comes with a compass built in," she teased. 

The Doctor frowned. "You're kidding?"

She shook her head, smiling that smile of hers that always made his heart leap a bit in a way he preferred not to think about. Still, what interesting things he was learning about humans today. "No wonder you people get lost all the time," he said, only half-seriously. Giving her hand a squeeze, he told her, "Then we better make extra sure we stick together."

Clara laughed, but held his hand tighter all the same. "We're not that stupid, you know. A map and some directions can work wonders—"

"Clara, I don't think you're stupid," he said firmly. "You're one of the smartest people I've ever known..."

"Why, thank you."

"...Except for the Emperor of Daltania, now there was a chap—"

Clara sighed. "And here we go again."

Things continued in this vein for a little while, the Doctor getting increasingly frustrated as Clara declared boredom of each of his fantastical stories. Finally, she said she was tired and they stopped for a rest.

"Doctor, it's been hours," she said wearily. "We're still walking. Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" 

"Of course I'm sure!" said the Doctor, mock-offended. "I know what I'm doing, Clara. We're nearly there."

"Well good, becau— oh! What's that?"

"What's what?" asked the Doctor, but Clara was already down on her knees, pushing dirt away from what appeared to be a small wooden trapdoor in the ground. She found a handle and tugged it open. Light streamed into the hole. 

There were cobwebs covering the walls, and dust settled on the ground. It looked about three metres deep. 

"I can go down if you'd like," said Clara, and the Doctor smiled. Fearless as ever.

"Good," he told her. "I'll follow. So you'll, er, just jump?"

"I suppose," replied Clara. "I've done bigger ones before." She sat at the edge of the hole, her feet dangling down, and pushed herself off the edge. She landed on the ground below with a soft thump. 

"How is it down there?" asked the Doctor, learning forward so his voice would travel down to her.

"Dark," said Clara. "Slimy. Smelly. Generally unpleasant."

"Delightful," sighed the Doctor, and jumped down beside her. His feet skidded slightly when he hit the ground, for there was indeed a coating of slime on the stone brick floors. 

"I can't see anything," said Clara. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but is it possible you have a flashlight on you?"

"A flashlight? Now why on Earth would I have a flashlight? Takes all the fun out of it, don't you think?"

Clara sighed. "This isn't very fun, Doctor. It's just a dark hallway, or cavern—"

"Not fun? Clara," he said grandly, "Darkness is the definition of fun! The great unknown, an infinite possibility, infinite potential, of what lies ahead! You don't know what's around the corner, and neither do I. It could change our lives forever, or it might just be more mud, or it could be a future version of ourselves. Anything, really. Isn't that fun?"

Clara raised an eyebrow. "Some people would also say that darkness is the definition of fear," she muttered. "I can't see a thing."

"No, me neither," replied the Doctor. "Take my hand," he said, "and I'll put my hand on the wall and we'll find a way to get along."

Clara's hand was tiny and cold in his. The Doctor felt his way along as best he could and they kept on shuffling, for what seemed like hours, their feet staying close to the ground for fear of tripping over something. The Doctor was tired, and everything seemed slightly removed, as if he was listening to Clara speak through an old radio. 

"Doctor!" said Clara suddenly. "What's that?" The Doctor could make out a faint light towards what seemed like the end of the tunnel. 

"I don't know," he said, his eyes narrowing. "It has a bit of a warm glow, so at this distance my guess is fire."

"Like torches? Or maybe a campfire?" Clara asked, throwing out suggestions. "Maybe lava."

"Maybe a fireplace."

"I'd love a good fireplace, somewhere to warm my hands."

"Your hand is cold," the Doctor told her bluntly, and Clara laughed. 

"You're right," she said. Suddenly, her hand slipped out of his, and the Doctor heard her scream. 

"Clara? Clara!" he shouted into the darkness. 

"Doctor, I—" she was cut off. The Doctor pulled out his sonic specs and scanned the place for life signs, specifically hers. Her pulse was there, but it was weak. He pulled her up from the ground, and found that she had been coated in some sort of clear sticky substance. 

"Clara! Clara? Are you there? Can you hear me?" He put two fingers on her neck, trying to feel her pulse. It was barely there, and she wasn't breathing. 

She wasn't breathing. 

And all of a sudden, they were wearing different clothes, and she wasn't sticky anymore, and the ground was different. But none of this was important, because he knew she was still dead, he knew she was. This was his worst fear, the thing he never told her because he could never face it, never. She was dead. But he had to save her, and never would he give up.

Desperately, he leant down and lowered his mouth to hers in an attempt to get some air into her lungs. Her lips felt soft and sweet, and he swore to himself that if she breathed again, he wouldn't wait. He's tell her. He pushed on her chest, again, trying to get her to breathe. And there. He'd done it. She took a tiny breath in. 

"Doctor?" she asked. 

"Clara?"

"I'm here."

"Clara." He couldn't tear his eyes away. "I thought you were dead. Forever."

She reached up and took his hand in hers. "Maybe I was. But I'm not leaving you now."

He shook his head. "You don't understand. I thought you were dead! I thought that was it, I would never speak to you again, you would never speak to me. I was so afraid I couldn't save you."

She smiled, a sad smile. "Doctor, I know, believe me, but it's okay. You did save me."

He frowned. "But what happened to you anyway? I looked around, and you were dead— oh!"

All of a sudden they were in a garden. A beautiful, grand garden, bright and green with glowing flowers around them. They sat on the grass, holding onto each other, just as they'd been before on the floor of the cave. 

Clara didn't seem to notice. "You thought I died, Doctor," she insisted, as if to remind him. 

"Oh, yeah," he said, remembering. "Right. And I thought, if that was it, if you died... you'd die with so many things I never told you." He took a deep breath. "I care for you, Clara. Very much. And I don't know what it means, but my heart lights up when you smile, and I feel giddy whenever we're so close, and I think my heart would break if I never saw you again. I can't ever let you go."

She smiled softly under his gaze. "You don't know what it means, Doctor? It's what humans call love." She raised her eyes to meet his, and then whispered, "I care for you too." And then she was kissing him and he kissed her back, but he had this awful insistence in the back of his mind that he was forgetting, something important—

The Doctor jerked awake, coughing as he realized he'd been practically strangling Sylvester the cat. Unhappy, the tabby leapt off the bed and stalked off, while the Doctor tried to remember the contents of his dream. 

It had been a dream, about... a girl? How ridiculously unusual. Wait, no. This had been no random girl. About Clara, his beautiful Clara who he didn't even remember. He knew his mind had been constructing memories, filling in the hole she'd left, but he didn't know it was so real. It felt so real.


End file.
